It's been close to 3 months since I wrote. Those happy European days left me behind as I returned to the murky waters of school. Time went by faster than I thought, and here I am with the exams to deal with. I travelled a little, most recently to Japan while the rest were weekend breaks to Thailand and Malaysia. I feel a little of me dying everyday.
in the last few months, i've been virtually immobile. i researched and wrote 2 papers on Cambodia, both revolving around the Khmer Rouge period. Other than that, i've barely found inspiration elsewhere. I've decided to start writing again. The last few months of silence were heavy and draining on me. i need a voice.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
2 days in Paris
here I am back in Paris with 2 days left and a ton of writing to do on the rest of Italy and London. I spent the last few days meeting friends in Paris on bicycle, racing before any impending rain. Surprisingly, the French are kinder to cyclists than to their fellow drivers. Yesterday i was back in Montmatre, along the Rue de Abbèsses, a really charming street full of cafes and restos and had dinner at the Relais Gascon, a southern french restaurant serving huge salads with foie gras and chervrè chaud( hot goat cheese)and in the evening i visited my friend Berengère at her new apartment in the Latin Quartier near Sorbonne. I watched Paris, Je T'aime, a 2006 film about love in Paris which featured a bunch of big names in 5 minute stories. not very original, but it is really potent in showing the randomness and going ons in Paris, with those 18th/19th century facades as background. the film made me feel like i was part of all that, desptie all the strangeness, it made me feel like i belonged with all these people buying their bread, falling in love, arguing, smoking, feeling lonely, being alive.
Monday, July 30, 2007
A little bit of Fantasy.
The view of the Lovers Lane Tunnel.
A hallucinating sort of blue.
The bar where i spent my evenings.
Not such a good idea going down there now that i think about it.
Uphill to the church.
The eternal sunset.
Friday, July 27, 2007
A little bit of Fantasy.
The following excerpt was taken from one of my journal entries written while watching a glorious sunset over the Coast of Liguria from the village of Manarola in the UNESCO protected region of Cinque Terre.
" Imagine five little villages, so precariously perched on metres of sheer cliff, pulled relentlessly by the emerald blue green Mediterranean sea. This is the sort of place i am at right now, watching a spectacular performance of orange, red and pink. Such a scene is inhuman - so cruel for the way it ends so fast, and so beautiful that it is beyond human comprehension.
The train journey to these relatively-unknown-but-steadily-gaining-fame villages was quite a buildup. As the train ascended into the higher regions in between mountains (i knew this beacuse of the sudden strips of tunnels that we swerved in and out of as well as the frighteningly high bridges that connected the valleys) and past little streams, i realised how inaccessible the place was going to be. I admit that i felt a tinge of doubt. Just what if this place does not meet my expectations? I was also desperately waiting to see the sea, hoping that the train would choo choo along the coast, for it must, to get to the other villages. No such thing was to happen when i arrived at the first of the five villages, Riomaggiore, where i stayed. Instead, I got off in a dark and dingy tunnel, feeling completely vague and confused.
Then the vasteness of the sea hit me, as i walked out of the tunnel, smelling the salty air. The time was about 9 plus; the sun had just set leaving a trail of purple and blue. I was overlooking the most dramatic scenary I had ever seen; sheer cliff, valleys of olive terraces and the infinite horizon. Disbelief, I suppose, is the first reaction of a Singaporean living a cluttered life can feel at the sight of the immense space and openess ahead. After a long walk uphill to my very pleasant room, i went to the bar (very quickly becoming my favourite) that i spotted from the train station overlooking this scenary.
The next few days I did the activity that the five villages are most famous for: hike. A safe and well protected coatal footpath known as the Via dell Amore or Lovers Lane linked my village and Manarola and it continues on to Corniglia, Vernazza and then Monterosso. The total amount of hours spent walking - about 4 or 5 maximum. There were also stairways from the cliff going down towards the rocks where the brave and vain can walk then scale onto a suitably sized tanning rock. That said, it was the most beautiful walk I had ever taken in my entire life. Every moment had to be captured on camera; every moment was so beautiful. Besides the scenary, what struck me most pleasantly was the fact that it remains a true village, inhabitated by Italians who grow their own fruit, make their own wine and eat their own pesto. None of that touting or hawking nonsense, no cars even, just simple daily livelihood. In the afternoons, i love seeing the old people sitting on the sidewalks talking about their distant past, or gossipping away on nearby news. One of the days I hiked up to the highest point on Riomaggiore where there was a church, and i was surrounded by plots of lemon trees and grape vine plantations, terraced onto the sides of the mountain. So beautiful and rural.
The last few of the 7 days i spent in Cinque Terre, there was a sudden wash of waves onto the rocks. the ferry services were stopped and people were advised against swimming so I had time to sit on an inland rock and watch the relentless pounding. the sea is such a potent force of distraction. I felt heartbroken leaving this little crevice of harmony. I dont want it to change, i dont want the Americans to discover it, i want it to be just the way it is when i come back.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
Excerpts from my journal on the way to Cinque Terre
The following excerpt was written in my journal on the train after I left Verona through the stretch of North Italy by train until i finally reached the Coast of Liguria where my destination was.
" Verona was as pretty as Venice, a sleepy sort of northern italian town with rolling green hills and cream coloured bridges that are overlooked by medieval monastries. The town boasts some fine roman architecture that few are aware of besides having the third biggest ancient colosseum in the world. Verona had taken me by surprise; it was much prettier than i had expected. the soothing atmosphere suited the place perfectly, the kind of place where you could hide under a tree and fall asleep, listening to leaves rustling and the whispers of time gone by. its too difficult to imagine the kind of turmoil described in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, but certainly the love. I climbed to the top of one of the castellos and was offered one of the finest views of Verona - so typically italian with the orange roofs, green trees and clear blue sky.
I am currently on the Italian regional train and i have just passed Parma, which bequested to us ham of the same name. I avow to try some pesto in Cinque Terre, supposedly the regional specialty. So far on this train journey I have passed some of the oldest and most important cities ever to have existed. Though the Lombardy and Piedmontese regions, there was Padua the oldest of the Renaissance university towns, foothold of some of the greatest Humanists and supposedly the oldest city in Northern Italy. And then there was Mantua, surrounded by 3 placid lakes, founded as early as 2000BC and birth place of Virgil, then later seat of the powerful Gonzaga family. i pass the nothern highlands through the Emilio-Romagna region i pass Bologna and Ferrara rumoured to be very pretty also with the exception of Modena where the expensive automobiles are manufactured. Its amazing how these people actually live with the medieval churches and houses, some actually residing in them.
I love train travel. Right now I am going in and out of tunnels through the Ligurian region, presumably under mountains. Sure, I see the streams and tons of mountains wihch are either the Apennines or Italian Alps and i am waiting eagerly for the suddenness of the sea to hit me. I am sure my train goes along the coast. the sun is setting and this scene is too beautiful for words- its too haunting with just these mountains, streams, houses and fortified castles.
" Verona was as pretty as Venice, a sleepy sort of northern italian town with rolling green hills and cream coloured bridges that are overlooked by medieval monastries. The town boasts some fine roman architecture that few are aware of besides having the third biggest ancient colosseum in the world. Verona had taken me by surprise; it was much prettier than i had expected. the soothing atmosphere suited the place perfectly, the kind of place where you could hide under a tree and fall asleep, listening to leaves rustling and the whispers of time gone by. its too difficult to imagine the kind of turmoil described in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, but certainly the love. I climbed to the top of one of the castellos and was offered one of the finest views of Verona - so typically italian with the orange roofs, green trees and clear blue sky.
I am currently on the Italian regional train and i have just passed Parma, which bequested to us ham of the same name. I avow to try some pesto in Cinque Terre, supposedly the regional specialty. So far on this train journey I have passed some of the oldest and most important cities ever to have existed. Though the Lombardy and Piedmontese regions, there was Padua the oldest of the Renaissance university towns, foothold of some of the greatest Humanists and supposedly the oldest city in Northern Italy. And then there was Mantua, surrounded by 3 placid lakes, founded as early as 2000BC and birth place of Virgil, then later seat of the powerful Gonzaga family. i pass the nothern highlands through the Emilio-Romagna region i pass Bologna and Ferrara rumoured to be very pretty also with the exception of Modena where the expensive automobiles are manufactured. Its amazing how these people actually live with the medieval churches and houses, some actually residing in them.
I love train travel. Right now I am going in and out of tunnels through the Ligurian region, presumably under mountains. Sure, I see the streams and tons of mountains wihch are either the Apennines or Italian Alps and i am waiting eagerly for the suddenness of the sea to hit me. I am sure my train goes along the coast. the sun is setting and this scene is too beautiful for words- its too haunting with just these mountains, streams, houses and fortified castles.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Crumbling walls and Back alley canals.
yes, i did expect Venice to be a tourist trap and yes, i was also warned about the smell of dirt ridden canals in the summer. but i didnt think Lonely Planet would call it "mysterious and hauntingly beautiful" for no reason. my trip in Italy begun as i crossed my first bridge over a bright and white full moon. Venice by night was quite eerie and nothing i had experienced. No sound of cars whirring by or 24 hour mini marts, just old and dilapitated buildings, remnants from the 15th centuy or even earlier. I was too tired to be enchanted - i had missed my flight in the morning thanks to the bloody parisien traffic jam as parisiens were all rushing out of the city to go on their summer breaks. half of us in those cars must have missed our flights even though we left hours before hand.
i arrived at the hostel which was pleasingly near the campo santa magherita, the main hub of bars and restos. i realised i was living next to the university foscari. it was not until the next day did i realise that there was indeed a healthy population of young people living on the island, all studying here.
From the start I was prepared to be lost in Venice. its true that maps have their way of ceasing function and that for me, was the exciting thing about the city. I did the usual stuff, avoiding the queues (and pigeons) as much as I could but it was the Venice Biennale that first got me lost. Every part of venice had been transformed into a contemporary museum with only signs leading you to an obscure renaissance building or court and if you saw a poster with the Bienalle sign, you've wandered right. I managed to catch almost all the exhibits, except for the Singapore Pavillion which was closed. The thing i realised about Venice is that it was thriving with art. Many of the students i met were studying art or architecture , a position well exploited by the Universities there. But surprisingly this created a fresh edge over the blatantly Medieval and Renaissance feel of the city. Huge artsy wall posters could be found on slanted brick alleys with layers of history crumbling.
i arrived at the hostel which was pleasingly near the campo santa magherita, the main hub of bars and restos. i realised i was living next to the university foscari. it was not until the next day did i realise that there was indeed a healthy population of young people living on the island, all studying here.
From the start I was prepared to be lost in Venice. its true that maps have their way of ceasing function and that for me, was the exciting thing about the city. I did the usual stuff, avoiding the queues (and pigeons) as much as I could but it was the Venice Biennale that first got me lost. Every part of venice had been transformed into a contemporary museum with only signs leading you to an obscure renaissance building or court and if you saw a poster with the Bienalle sign, you've wandered right. I managed to catch almost all the exhibits, except for the Singapore Pavillion which was closed. The thing i realised about Venice is that it was thriving with art. Many of the students i met were studying art or architecture , a position well exploited by the Universities there. But surprisingly this created a fresh edge over the blatantly Medieval and Renaissance feel of the city. Huge artsy wall posters could be found on slanted brick alleys with layers of history crumbling.
Monday, June 25, 2007
the city of love.
Paris, paris, paris. If only i could find the words to describe how i really feel about this place. Quite honestly, my first week in Paris was heavenly - almost like falling in love for the first time. Paris, i fell in love with the city the moment i stepped out from the St Lazare train station. I didnt expect to feel this way. After all, i have seen so much of paris in books, on tele, in paintings. its as if i already knew the place like the back of my hand. probably because of that, i lowered my expectations of the place to avoid disappointment. i think after i was blown away. its impossible for this city to let you down. its too beautiful. As i made my first uneasy steps toward the gallery lafayette from the train station, i looked around in what must have been disbelief. everything is so drmatically beautiful in paris - the 18th century facades, the intricate art nouveau metal grills, the flowers, the smell of baguette, the overwhelmingly wide bouvelards, the sound of music! if only i could describe everything to you.
tonight i hqve been invited to an art opening at the Jeu de Paume of the french contemporary artists Pierre et Giles. Hopefully i can finish this entry then without getting too drunk on free champagne!
tonight i hqve been invited to an art opening at the Jeu de Paume of the french contemporary artists Pierre et Giles. Hopefully i can finish this entry then without getting too drunk on free champagne!
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Montmatre-d.
Currently i'm writing from a squashed up hole in the wall internet cafe in the heart of Montmatre. Armed with nothing but just my wits and sunglasses, i stepped in hoping to make contact with some friends, since my phone turned off on its own. Thank god for the internet.
This is no place to describe my current love affair with Paris. But all i can say is oh my god. this place. where do i even begin? Do i start with the beauty of the buildings, the people or the culture? Thats too reductive i feel. Whatever it is its damn good, and right now i'm in the love at first sight phase.
I'm spending the rest of the evening (its 7.20pm now but the sky is blue and the sun is out) at a cafe with one of my friends Ailin and we're going to smoke our lives away. talking about shit of course. Funny how the people here make doing nothing look so good.
I will write more tonight!
This is no place to describe my current love affair with Paris. But all i can say is oh my god. this place. where do i even begin? Do i start with the beauty of the buildings, the people or the culture? Thats too reductive i feel. Whatever it is its damn good, and right now i'm in the love at first sight phase.
I'm spending the rest of the evening (its 7.20pm now but the sky is blue and the sun is out) at a cafe with one of my friends Ailin and we're going to smoke our lives away. talking about shit of course. Funny how the people here make doing nothing look so good.
I will write more tonight!
Thursday, June 14, 2007
travel plans.
I just bought tickets to see Muse at the Nimes Roman Arena in the South of France. COOOOOOOOOL! This means that from Paris, i will be taken a train down to Avignon and then Nimes and Arles, which has the oldest remains of Roman colosseums in all of France. On the way to Nimes and Arles i hope to pass Bordeaux and Aix-en-provence which are areas with the most beautiful vineyards.
From there, I head off to Nice, on the French Riveria to get some sun and meet a friend there. I'll be celebrating Bastille day there, which should be quite wild. Nice is the best place to cross over into Italy which is what i will do either to Venice or Florence. Will figure out how things go from there, but this time round, dont think i can do my Amalfi Coast trip with no drivers.
From there, I head off to Nice, on the French Riveria to get some sun and meet a friend there. I'll be celebrating Bastille day there, which should be quite wild. Nice is the best place to cross over into Italy which is what i will do either to Venice or Florence. Will figure out how things go from there, but this time round, dont think i can do my Amalfi Coast trip with no drivers.
Parting is such Sweet Sad Sorrow
Last night i went out and met up with the bunch i used to do business with. They all seemed to be doing well for themselves, but as we well know, business is a showey business. One thing that i really respect them for is that each of them had taken the unorthodox route of venturing into unknown territory when so many could have taken the easy way of becoming professionals. Instead, they prefer creating their own territory, and in the process make changes to Singapore's business landscape. These small and commercial changes have their way of affecting the country nonetheless. It was this that gave me a great sense of pride when i was working on my own.
Part of me felt sad for moving on. In fact, my whole journey coming back to Singapore has not been a process of readjusting and re-establishing, but a proces of moving on. In every aspect of my life right now, i have moved on. But every end brings a new beginning and it's safe to say that this is my beginning into the world. I have spent many days when i was younger yearning to break away and see the greater world, but only now do i dare say that i have the guts to take the big step. That big step is learning how to detach yourself from the place you grew up, from the place you know, however much you hate, like the back of your hand.
I feel like it's quite painful. I know i'm going to be back in two months time, but i know that when i come back i'm going to be a totally different person in a same old context.
Part of me felt sad for moving on. In fact, my whole journey coming back to Singapore has not been a process of readjusting and re-establishing, but a proces of moving on. In every aspect of my life right now, i have moved on. But every end brings a new beginning and it's safe to say that this is my beginning into the world. I have spent many days when i was younger yearning to break away and see the greater world, but only now do i dare say that i have the guts to take the big step. That big step is learning how to detach yourself from the place you grew up, from the place you know, however much you hate, like the back of your hand.
I feel like it's quite painful. I know i'm going to be back in two months time, but i know that when i come back i'm going to be a totally different person in a same old context.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
the air conditioned bell jar.
Just a few days ago I was contemplating taking this entire blog down. I didn't realise that so many of you were still reading it and feel an immense embarrassment for the recent low quality of writing.
The only reason i can attribute for my lack of writing is probably the lack of inspiration. There is nothing to feel happy about here in this country. we are all trapped in this air conditioned bell jar like goldfish with nothing better to do but stare at each other. The damn place is overcrowded and exists as a repetition of scenary, shops and things to do. it's also dreadfully painful being one of those trying to escape because you end up hitting the glass ceiling with nothing but bruises. It must be a phenomenon here, but i always feel like somehow this bell jar magnifies the outside world i see, making me feel even more pathetically small.
I've been told that i'm too harsh and bitter on this country. save for some articfially pretty juxtapositions, my process of rediscovering singapore was a confirmation - I cannot and will not subject myself to this place no matter what they say. The only saving grace is the more religious side of some of the older folks here - discounting the rest that pray for money.Home or not, i have never had any affinity with this place and frienships forged here have had nothing to do with the place. Our friendships exist over time and space, so i couldnt give a shit less for this place.
With Paris and the rest of Europe calling, I dont think i will need to think twice about where my spirit and being wants to be. I am a willing victim of wanderlust, and i'm happy that i have this wonderful sickness. At this moment, I couldn't be happier.
The only reason i can attribute for my lack of writing is probably the lack of inspiration. There is nothing to feel happy about here in this country. we are all trapped in this air conditioned bell jar like goldfish with nothing better to do but stare at each other. The damn place is overcrowded and exists as a repetition of scenary, shops and things to do. it's also dreadfully painful being one of those trying to escape because you end up hitting the glass ceiling with nothing but bruises. It must be a phenomenon here, but i always feel like somehow this bell jar magnifies the outside world i see, making me feel even more pathetically small.
I've been told that i'm too harsh and bitter on this country. save for some articfially pretty juxtapositions, my process of rediscovering singapore was a confirmation - I cannot and will not subject myself to this place no matter what they say. The only saving grace is the more religious side of some of the older folks here - discounting the rest that pray for money.Home or not, i have never had any affinity with this place and frienships forged here have had nothing to do with the place. Our friendships exist over time and space, so i couldnt give a shit less for this place.
With Paris and the rest of Europe calling, I dont think i will need to think twice about where my spirit and being wants to be. I am a willing victim of wanderlust, and i'm happy that i have this wonderful sickness. At this moment, I couldn't be happier.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
to the city of light and love.
finally booked my ticket to Paris. i somehow found the courage to leave my job and leave behind everything here and take off again. Seems like i've chosen my path in life.
will be gone on the 15th of june and wont be back until august.
will be gone on the 15th of june and wont be back until august.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Bite the Bullet
It is without choice that we are carried away by the machines that Time fuels. More than three weeks have past since I arrived back on this measly island. The suffocating air and choking humidity does nothing but add to my general unhappiness. In such an irrational frame of mind did I embark on a three month internship at the Singapore Art Museum. As predicted, it has been disappointing so far, but I refuse to give in. After the last few weeks of reading original letters and diary entries of artists from decades ago, i feel like i'm entering a territory that is completely irrelevant. Still, it's really interesting. i suppose it's better than crunching numbers. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that I am in a creative atmosphere.
What choice do we have anyway?
What choice do we have anyway?
Monday, April 23, 2007
my love hate relationship with montreal.
i can't explain it but i really do have a love hate relationship with this city. Summer came right after last week's snow storm and now we're getting temperatures of 23 degrees. Just like that I fell in love with the city again. The restaurants with their open air terraces, the pretty people in their cute shorts and huge sunglasses, the clear blue sky, the cream glace from a man by the street. it's not possible that just 2 weeks ago i felt like i was looking out into the Artic wilderness. To celebrate, i had a little farewell picnic at Mont-Royal at what we call Sunday Tam Tams. It's a whole day when the street musicians come out and jam with their african drums and people start dancing round that park. it was such a great day. we had wine and sushi and raph brought his hookah thing while alyosha brought his cat (it was so damn cute and well behaved!!). everyone was so chill. i'm gonna miss them so much. i never thought that i'd make such good friends here. we're all so different, and from different parts of the world. it's funny how humans connect, but i'm glad they do.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
writer's block
help. i'm suffering from writer's block AGAIN. that is the second time this year. and it doesnt help that my laptop with all my old scripts got stolen last year and i have to write them from scratch again!! urgh. let me know if you've got ideas.
more pics from cuba
a little distracted......
more local architecture
the cars are so tiny!!
local architecture
at the city square
streets of cuba
Saturday, March 10, 2007
sober, silent, sorry.
somedays i wake up with this terrible dream. the same damn dream that happens over and over again with the same damn effect to make me wake up in a sweat, sobbing silently. and for the one terrible second, you can't tell which world you're in or perhaps if you're just a phantom living or dead. These are the kind of experiences i get waking up from the unreal, and for that one moment it's as if everything is coming at you in one instant from all directions and you stand the the junction, target to these charging bulls. in one flash, they hit you and you feel the crux of immense pain. and then you wake up again.
and for the rest of the day you're numb with nothing to say and you can't go back to sleep again but you don't know if you're awake.
that's when you want to jump. or take a hike on the Trans-Siberian railway alone into the wilderness.
and for the rest of the day you're numb with nothing to say and you can't go back to sleep again but you don't know if you're awake.
that's when you want to jump. or take a hike on the Trans-Siberian railway alone into the wilderness.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
a picture says a thousand words
sunset over nuevitas bay
my mojito and me!
typical cuban graffitti
what else more do we need in life?
22 years old!
perhaps all it takes is just a little leap into the sea
abandoned sugarcane factory near santa lucia
old man passing time with his statue
camaguey square
Saturday, February 24, 2007
cuba marimba!
ok. so perhaps i am a year older and about 5 shades darker as i'm writing this. but damn, i'm so farking happy! i just spent a week by the beach, letting my shrivelled pasty white body absorb as much sun, breathing as much carribean air and enjoying life in peaceful bliss in Cuba.
Contrary to what people think, Cuba is hardly the decrepit and dangerous place that the word "Communism" connotes. Yes, yes, you do get the abandoned factory buildings and remnants of "Revolucion!" painted in red in outdated style on walls, but the country has managed to sustain itself pretty well. I would know, because i myself stayed in one of those resorts by the beach run by the government for tourists, mostly catering to americans and canadians looking to escape the cold winter. Needless to say, i was a little disappointed to find that i had cable TV with CNN and Coca Cola and that it was not going to be the gungho holiday i had hoped for, filled with last minute revolutions and the Red Guards in my face.
Cuba was surprisingly idyllic. i was living on Santa Lucia beach next to Nuevitas Bay, 22km of beautiul white sands and turqoise blue crystal waters. it was the home of the 2nd largest coral reef after the Australian Great Barrier Reef and also home to the largest colony of pink Flamingos in Latin America. The closest thing i got to revolution was the mass of people gathered next to my resort for their daily fiesta. Booming reggaeton, reggaeton mixes of David Guetta's "Love dont let me go" and Cuban salsa was heard day and night, peaking at it's loudest at 4am. Apparently there had been a week long Carnaval there, and i attempted to go down a few times but found myself unable to keep up to the Cuban stamina.
Mojitos, Cuba Libres and many days later, i somehow found the motivation to move my ass away from the beach to explore the vicinty. I took a boat ride out on to Nuevitas Bay, and snokeled seeing some of the most beautiful corals and fishes ever. The reef was well and alive, looking very healthy indeed. i had wanted to go diving but unfortunately, due to some screw ups in the recent global weather system, it was too cloudy (and even cold at one point) to do that (the truth was hat last time i went diving i remembered taking half an hour to get into the damn wet suit which kept sticking to my skin) I also managed to catch sight of some of those pink flamingos, they were really cute walking in single file all the time.
One of the days, i went down to the city of Camaguey, supposedly well known for being a labyrinth town because it was built to defile pirates who rampaged the city in the 18th century. Now before you get any ideas about this being some Pirates of the Caribbean getaway, it's really not. The whole place was rather decrepit and oozes the general charm of a 1940s-50s village town. while i was there i got to see the typical cuban postcard scenarios of old men wearing fedora hats, chatting on the side walks and smoking their pipes, beautiful tan cuban women selling fruit by her door step and children running around everywhere. it's like people never go to work here (heck, they dont have to) and perhaps that is what makes them some of the smiliest people in the world.
late in the afternoon, i stopped for coffee at a place called Music square and had some fried bananas while listening to musicians jam to "quizas, quizas, quizas". at some point this old guy stood up and went there and started singing along and he had an awesome voice (he was funny too)!! damn it must be in their blood to be able to sing. i was soooo happy. i live for cuban music.
i wanted to go down to Havana, but unfortunately the east-west (i was in the west) route was not safe for a girl and the only way was to fly there for US 600. that was way out of my budget, so looks like i'm set to return!
Contrary to what people think, Cuba is hardly the decrepit and dangerous place that the word "Communism" connotes. Yes, yes, you do get the abandoned factory buildings and remnants of "Revolucion!" painted in red in outdated style on walls, but the country has managed to sustain itself pretty well. I would know, because i myself stayed in one of those resorts by the beach run by the government for tourists, mostly catering to americans and canadians looking to escape the cold winter. Needless to say, i was a little disappointed to find that i had cable TV with CNN and Coca Cola and that it was not going to be the gungho holiday i had hoped for, filled with last minute revolutions and the Red Guards in my face.
Cuba was surprisingly idyllic. i was living on Santa Lucia beach next to Nuevitas Bay, 22km of beautiul white sands and turqoise blue crystal waters. it was the home of the 2nd largest coral reef after the Australian Great Barrier Reef and also home to the largest colony of pink Flamingos in Latin America. The closest thing i got to revolution was the mass of people gathered next to my resort for their daily fiesta. Booming reggaeton, reggaeton mixes of David Guetta's "Love dont let me go" and Cuban salsa was heard day and night, peaking at it's loudest at 4am. Apparently there had been a week long Carnaval there, and i attempted to go down a few times but found myself unable to keep up to the Cuban stamina.
Mojitos, Cuba Libres and many days later, i somehow found the motivation to move my ass away from the beach to explore the vicinty. I took a boat ride out on to Nuevitas Bay, and snokeled seeing some of the most beautiful corals and fishes ever. The reef was well and alive, looking very healthy indeed. i had wanted to go diving but unfortunately, due to some screw ups in the recent global weather system, it was too cloudy (and even cold at one point) to do that (the truth was hat last time i went diving i remembered taking half an hour to get into the damn wet suit which kept sticking to my skin) I also managed to catch sight of some of those pink flamingos, they were really cute walking in single file all the time.
One of the days, i went down to the city of Camaguey, supposedly well known for being a labyrinth town because it was built to defile pirates who rampaged the city in the 18th century. Now before you get any ideas about this being some Pirates of the Caribbean getaway, it's really not. The whole place was rather decrepit and oozes the general charm of a 1940s-50s village town. while i was there i got to see the typical cuban postcard scenarios of old men wearing fedora hats, chatting on the side walks and smoking their pipes, beautiful tan cuban women selling fruit by her door step and children running around everywhere. it's like people never go to work here (heck, they dont have to) and perhaps that is what makes them some of the smiliest people in the world.
late in the afternoon, i stopped for coffee at a place called Music square and had some fried bananas while listening to musicians jam to "quizas, quizas, quizas". at some point this old guy stood up and went there and started singing along and he had an awesome voice (he was funny too)!! damn it must be in their blood to be able to sing. i was soooo happy. i live for cuban music.
i wanted to go down to Havana, but unfortunately the east-west (i was in the west) route was not safe for a girl and the only way was to fly there for US 600. that was way out of my budget, so looks like i'm set to return!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
a clarification
I feel a need to clarify my last post, which upon review looks crude and harsh. It lacks the refinement of an enlightened truth. let me reiterate. there is no such thing as "love". in the last post, i labelled it a "vague feeling people get before they bed each other". So how do i explain platonic love, romantic love etc? firstly, i think it is neccessary to clarify that love between friends is out of the question here, since i am pondering this in relation to marriage. the second instance holds the crux of this argument - romantic love is sexual.
Some people say sex is the expression of love, but i think "love" is an expression of sex. It's another displacment in a civilized, repressed order. oops. there i go with the old man Freud again. I dont think he literally meant that humans are driven by sex, i think what he actually meant to say was that humans are driven by the politics of it. the invisible ties of power, intimacy and emotion that drive the act of it. Not the carnal intercourse alone. the act alone is a displacement of some sort of hidden aggression that has to emerge because of it's repression. I dont think humans have a natural instinct to "love" but instead to "possess, gain authority over, dominate". Parental love is another matter although if you think about it a large part of a parent's duty is precisely the latter. You love your friend because you have them, and they are yours to keep.
There is the other school that believes that to love is to submit, and be possessed. I used to belong to that school. But the stark realization fell upon me that you cannot submit unless someone wants to dominate, since "love" involves 2 parties. So you find that someone, and you play a delicate game of balancing the power struggle. But it doesnt matter who submits to who, because objectively speaking the nature of the relationship is the same. the politics played out in sexual terms does not change.
So back to the idea that romantic love is always sexual. let me clarify for those in denial. there is no such thing as non-sexual romantic love. The concept only came about when Christianity took over the world and non-sexual love was used to explain God's benevolent love to mankind. Anything with sexual connotations came to be "impure, bad, evil" only after the coming of Christianity and subsequently polarized is the notion of love. That one should "strive" for the opposite of impure love is yet another Christian conception. Nobody said that was truly the case or the nature of man. So this notion of "love" as we know it, is merely another artificial construct and really masks what is a sexual bond of politics between two people.
Anyway, if you take my words literally, you're really a dimwit. i'm expressing the phenomenon we call "love" as that mysterious bond between two people, the undercurrent of all undercurrents driving their actions. I'm not saying we shouldn't love. What i AM saying though, is that we should not expect "love" to happen or be there, which in that sense, makes us humans much less disillusioned when we don't encounter the disappointment.
Some people say sex is the expression of love, but i think "love" is an expression of sex. It's another displacment in a civilized, repressed order. oops. there i go with the old man Freud again. I dont think he literally meant that humans are driven by sex, i think what he actually meant to say was that humans are driven by the politics of it. the invisible ties of power, intimacy and emotion that drive the act of it. Not the carnal intercourse alone. the act alone is a displacement of some sort of hidden aggression that has to emerge because of it's repression. I dont think humans have a natural instinct to "love" but instead to "possess, gain authority over, dominate". Parental love is another matter although if you think about it a large part of a parent's duty is precisely the latter. You love your friend because you have them, and they are yours to keep.
There is the other school that believes that to love is to submit, and be possessed. I used to belong to that school. But the stark realization fell upon me that you cannot submit unless someone wants to dominate, since "love" involves 2 parties. So you find that someone, and you play a delicate game of balancing the power struggle. But it doesnt matter who submits to who, because objectively speaking the nature of the relationship is the same. the politics played out in sexual terms does not change.
So back to the idea that romantic love is always sexual. let me clarify for those in denial. there is no such thing as non-sexual romantic love. The concept only came about when Christianity took over the world and non-sexual love was used to explain God's benevolent love to mankind. Anything with sexual connotations came to be "impure, bad, evil" only after the coming of Christianity and subsequently polarized is the notion of love. That one should "strive" for the opposite of impure love is yet another Christian conception. Nobody said that was truly the case or the nature of man. So this notion of "love" as we know it, is merely another artificial construct and really masks what is a sexual bond of politics between two people.
Anyway, if you take my words literally, you're really a dimwit. i'm expressing the phenomenon we call "love" as that mysterious bond between two people, the undercurrent of all undercurrents driving their actions. I'm not saying we shouldn't love. What i AM saying though, is that we should not expect "love" to happen or be there, which in that sense, makes us humans much less disillusioned when we don't encounter the disappointment.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
a proclamation (warning: violence ahead)
I don't believe in love anymore!!! It's crazy but when i was writing in my journal trying to figure out my views on marriage i realised something quite serious. I realised that 'love' is just a pathetic word that we use in the English language to describe the vague feeling humans get before they get into bed with each other. And then, why do they get married, we ask. It's after the slow, agonizaing realisation that they had wasted so many years of their life on this word "love", which doesn't exist except the repetitive proclamations of it, that they need to affirm the presence of it by signing a paper, wearing a ring and performing a ceremony. It all fits into Foucault's theory of power, where 'power' only exists through signs of it's representations. Taking that same theory, we apply it to love and we realise, that actually 'love' which is supposed to be another form of power, really doesn't exist at all on it's own but is yet another artificial construct.
my friend Joanne says that i'm obessed with this thing called love. it's only because i wanted to understand how it's held us for centuries, and because i felt that too few people have questioned it objectively. if you thought about it alot, you'd be labbelled a Romantic, but that also comes with emotional attachment. That was what i used to be until i managed to get rid of the emotional part and think about it objectively. and strangely, i feel librated more than depressed about the prospect of it all.
I'm not saying one should not still have companions and for lack of better term, lovers. I'm just saying that we should not expect that there is this thing called 'love'. If you have been with your partner for many years, it's probably something else like circumstances, or self motivated determination in the name of 'love' to justify it all.
Hope this isn't too much a blow.
my friend Joanne says that i'm obessed with this thing called love. it's only because i wanted to understand how it's held us for centuries, and because i felt that too few people have questioned it objectively. if you thought about it alot, you'd be labbelled a Romantic, but that also comes with emotional attachment. That was what i used to be until i managed to get rid of the emotional part and think about it objectively. and strangely, i feel librated more than depressed about the prospect of it all.
I'm not saying one should not still have companions and for lack of better term, lovers. I'm just saying that we should not expect that there is this thing called 'love'. If you have been with your partner for many years, it's probably something else like circumstances, or self motivated determination in the name of 'love' to justify it all.
Hope this isn't too much a blow.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
counting down the days...
I am well aware how long it has been since i've written here. To tell the truth, i have been evading the thought of thinking about my life especially since writing about it would require some form of understanding. The new year kicked off in blazing cold, and i also find myself a little frozen. All the passion, all the heat...where did it go? it's almost as if i have nothing to complain even. Just mere muted resignation.
In any case i've accepted my situation and if anything this year i'm learning to let go. it's the feeling Sylvia Plath mentioned in that bloody A level text i studied about letting it all "fall away from me". That young posessive 18-year old i once was could barely understand how that was possible and dismissed the poet as a traitor immediately. I kept asking myself, if you love life so much, why let it go? How could you betray your lover?
But the years of seasoning have taught me but one thing, and it is that if you love something, the ultimate act of sacrifice IS letting it go. It's not a question of being noble. It's a question of preservation, of knowing enough, appreciating and preserving the memory at it's most beautiful. At a distance, the thing itself seems so much more beautiful. I have had a few personal relinquishes so far this year, and parted ways with many a thing I had considered to be precious to me. The fear and reluctance turned into utmost liberation, as I shed the baggage that was unknowingly heavy.
In short, I leave with a quote from Virginia Woolf who loved life more than anyone - enough to die for it:
In any case i've accepted my situation and if anything this year i'm learning to let go. it's the feeling Sylvia Plath mentioned in that bloody A level text i studied about letting it all "fall away from me". That young posessive 18-year old i once was could barely understand how that was possible and dismissed the poet as a traitor immediately. I kept asking myself, if you love life so much, why let it go? How could you betray your lover?
But the years of seasoning have taught me but one thing, and it is that if you love something, the ultimate act of sacrifice IS letting it go. It's not a question of being noble. It's a question of preservation, of knowing enough, appreciating and preserving the memory at it's most beautiful. At a distance, the thing itself seems so much more beautiful. I have had a few personal relinquishes so far this year, and parted ways with many a thing I had considered to be precious to me. The fear and reluctance turned into utmost liberation, as I shed the baggage that was unknowingly heavy.
In short, I leave with a quote from Virginia Woolf who loved life more than anyone - enough to die for it:
"To live life for what it is, to know it for what it is, to love it for what it is, and then to put it away."
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Monday, January 01, 2007
new year, new york!
well, ok. So i've spent my time and money trying to live it up for just a mere 2 weeks as a New Yorker and my god, it's so tiring. Things are fast in New York, but that's not the tiring part. The tiring part is trying to decide what to see and what to do with what little amount of time you have in the Big Apple. I got down to it and tried to extract the essence of the city and realised, at the core of it, it's just another city. What makes it rock however, is the people and the inexhaustible amount of energy that goes on here. It's top notch when it comes to dining, every resto i stepped into was of high quality food but cheap because of the increasing competition. I had lunch for 2 days in a row at Sapore on Greenwich Ave opposite my apartment were they serve excellent pastas and sandwiches. Asian food is great too, and it seems to be the 'in' thing here. I had dinner at a yuppy Thai restaurant called SEA in Brooklyn, in an up and coming hip area outside of Manhatten and also managed to have excellent Chinese cuisine in a restaurant called JEBON along Astor Place in East Village complete with 2046 decor.
Clubbing is usually a hit and miss and i'd recommend bars or live music lounges over clubs. I spent NEw Year's Eve at Crobar, an NYC Megaclub where i enjoyed a full open bar to the max and was greeted with Trapeze artist and Pole dancers for the countdown. I had the best time at the Fat Black Pussycat near Washington where the band was fucking awesome and where i had a free performance by John Mayer(he was right in front of me!) because he was a friend of the band. Bar 55 had great jazz as i lounged around with martinis. For a hip to be seen place, one should head on down to Buddha Bar NYC in the swanky Meatpacking district where you literally stand outside to get picked to go in.
(to be continued)
Clubbing is usually a hit and miss and i'd recommend bars or live music lounges over clubs. I spent NEw Year's Eve at Crobar, an NYC Megaclub where i enjoyed a full open bar to the max and was greeted with Trapeze artist and Pole dancers for the countdown. I had the best time at the Fat Black Pussycat near Washington where the band was fucking awesome and where i had a free performance by John Mayer(he was right in front of me!) because he was a friend of the band. Bar 55 had great jazz as i lounged around with martinis. For a hip to be seen place, one should head on down to Buddha Bar NYC in the swanky Meatpacking district where you literally stand outside to get picked to go in.
(to be continued)
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